We’re writing this entry a day late because for the past 31 hours the whole crew has been on full alert.
Now, the time is 12 pm, 19th of August. The boat is only temporarily anchored at False Strait, waiting for the low tide to then sail through Bellot Strait and settle at Port Ross, where we will recharge our batteries and rest for a while.

We departed from Cape Alexander at 5am yesterday, 18th of August. When we checked the ice charts the night before — they looked promising, with a clear and secure opening amongst the ice. However, things made a turn for the worst overnight. When we set out in the morning towards the Tasmania Islands — what we thought would be a safe and easy pass turned out to be a dangerously ice clogged ocean. Strong winds and currents had swept more ice into our route, and we found ourselves to be navigating through waters covered 70% by massive, jagged shaped ice bergs. When actually, a boat like ours can only ideally navigate waters covered 30% by ice. Everyone could feel the adrenalin pumping through the blood in their veins, the atmosphere was thick and suffocating. Fear and panic — these were the emotions we had to keep in control, in moments like these the captain needed everyone 100% concentrated on the task that lay ahead.

Therefore as we neared towards the ice, the boat had to slow down and we ended up traveling at a speed of 2 or 3 mph. We were literally sailing through an infinite labyrinth of fast moving ice bergs, with the centre of the labyrinth being a dangerously large wash — unidentified on our nautical charts. How to escape? Teamwork. Everyone onboard had something to do: Cami standing at the bow and pushing away any nearby ice pack with the boat hook, Davide harnessed to the third spreader and surveying the sea and ice below, the captain at the helm — maneuvering and steering the boat away from danger, Anna and Giulia positioned on the right and left of the boat — protecting the sides with fenders and lastly, Mafio on the dinghy, herding the largest and heaviest icebergs out of Plum’s way. We could effectively call him “the ice berg shepherd”.

Even the kids were out on deck, running around from one end of the boat to the other, carrying binoculars, lines, gloves and fenders to anyone who needed them.
We had to get out of the 7tenths concentration zone quickly before sunset. Despite the nights still being short due to the time of year, we already have 4 hours of poor light.
We finally found a passage through the ice to bring us back onto our track. In moments of total stillness, it was only the drone who could fly to 500m in altitude and provide a large scale birds’ eye view of the ice situation ahead.

Tired from the unexpectedly long sail, at midnight we reached a suitable anchorage, apparently safe from tidal streams and ice. Here we were going to spend the night to break up the voyage to the Bellot Strait. It was a blessing to be able to head indoors and warm up our shivering, exhausted bodies with a warm soup and a deep sleep. Unfortunately, it didn’t last too long; at 0230 LT we all burst out of bed and onto the deck in unison, clothed with whatever could be grabbed along the way, and let our jaws drop in front of the situation that had quickly developed around us.

An iceberg 3 times the size of Plum, with an estimated mass of around 600 tonnes, had been swept towards us by an odd tidal stream around the coast, and had got stuck on our anchor chain. The force pulling the boat was immense and our only option was to release the capstan and let the ice engulf as much chain as it wanted. In the meantime, the tender was lowered and we tried to push, pull, break, hook the ice in all ways. But it was of no use: the ice piece was too large and the chain too wrapped up inside it. After two and a half hours of hard work, in a chilly morning air, and with no time to worry about wet hands, feet or splashes, we decided to release the anchor chain from the boat so it could pass under the ice and we could pick it up on the other side.

Finally free from the ice, we could start work on collecting the anchor and all related equipment to make sure we could find it. Looking out into the sea from the bay it was clear the ice concentration had increased. To avoid any further risks of getting stuck we decided to head north immediately. 4 hours of sailing took us to False Strait, a safe anchorage where we had another two hours of rest before the tide turned East and we could head into the Bellot Straight.

The knackered crew fell into a deep, regenerative sleep and woke up after 4 hours ready for a “Pasta all’amatriciana” for breakfast!